


counting feathers

by asexuelf



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Travis Phelps Has Low Self-Esteem, Trichotillomania, Wingfic, but its the same concept, cuz im weak, kind of? its feathers instead of hair, kissing with the mask on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22358668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexuelf/pseuds/asexuelf
Summary: Sal waxes poetic about Travis' wings. (Or: Travis is insecure.)
Relationships: Sal Fisher/Travis Phelps
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	counting feathers

**Author's Note:**

> i made a giant list of tropes to write salvis fics for and >:3c wingfic !!! is one of my faves !!! i never read or write it, but i'm WEAK,, so here's a lil wing-y drabble
> 
> i hope you enjoy!!

Travis' wings are beautiful. They're brilliant in the setting sun outside Addison Apartments, contrasting starkly against the browning grass like sunflowers blooming in the fall. He folds them close to himself as he picks at a stray thread at the end of his shorts.

"I love your wings," Sal admits. Travis looks at him like he's grown a second head, face shadowed by the height of his wings, then turns away. "I mean it. They're beautiful."

"They're uneven. The left one hardly moves anymore."

"It's a part of you," Sal retorts. "It need serve no other function than that."

"Don't be stupid." 

The red hue to Travis' swarthy face says something different. _Keep being foolish. Keep loving me as I don't deserve to be loved._ It almost makes Sal angry. That anyone ever convinced this wonderful person that he's unworthy of love infuriates him.

"Knowing the truth is the opposite of being stupid. And the truth is that you're beautiful. Every part of you."

"Bald spots-" Travis blurts. He swallows hard, turning until even the curve of his ear is hard to make out. "I have- there's no feathers in places."

"The ones you have are brilliant and golden. Look at them shining in the sun. And the skin that peeks through the gaps is beautiful too. It's _your_ skin. I love your skin."

His head whips back to stare at Sal with something like fear shining in his eyes. "Stop it! Stop that!"

"Stop what?"

"You don't know what you're talking about. There's this big ugly burn, see it? And I get fluff everywhere from pulling my feathers out. And- It's hard to walk through doors because this one doesn't bend, so I look like an idiot. And-"

"And that burn is just a reminder of an injury. And there's no harm in fluff on the ground or in the bed. And you don't look like an idiot - everyone else does for making doors so narrow."

Travis clenches his teeth. He stares at Sal with those same frightened eyes. _I don't believe you,_ they say. _I don't trust you_.

Sal sighs and looks down at the cracked sidewalk. Little green blades of glass peek through, reaching for daylight.

"When you look at my wings, what do you see? Describe them."

Bringing his knees to his chest, Travis blinks. His wings raise defensively. "What? Why?"

"Just trust me."

The lines of Travis' throat shiver as he swallows. "I- I see scars. You have to clip your wings, so your feathers are short. Um. And they're dark. I like your black feathers." Then he stops, staring down at his knees.

Sal shows him some mercy. "Thank you. At night, the moon shining on them makes them look kind of blue." 

He scoots closer to Travis, just enough to open one of his wings and wrap it around the other's back. Travis tenses, but not like he does when he's upset. His wings betray him regardless, moving to press gently against Sal's like a flower seeking sunlight.

"So you see that my wings aren't what other people think as perfect, but you still like them?"

"Yeah." Travis' wing rubs against his, ticklish against Sal's short flight feathers. "I mean, they're perfect to me."

"And yours are perfect to me." He reaches out to place his hand on Travis' cheek, their new sign for _please kiss me_.

Blushing, Travis does. Though Sal can't feel the warmth of his lips against the prosthetic, he can remember what they feel like against his. He can see the lines of Travis' closed eyes, his pretty eyelashes laying against the swell of his cheeks. He can feel how close he is, feel his hand on his wrist, feel their wings still reaching out for each other.

When he pulls away, Travis' eyes are still closed and his breathing shallow. "Thanks," he whispers.

"Always." And it means something more than that too.

They don't go inside until the sun starts falling beneath the horizon.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading 💖


End file.
